


Fair Trade

by ShenanigansEnsue



Series: Shenanigans and Imagines [64]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood and Injury, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Healing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 14:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15642429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShenanigansEnsue/pseuds/ShenanigansEnsue
Summary: Based on request by AnonymousOkay, maybe the reader is training at Kamar Taj while Wong and Strange are away and they come back super beat up and the reader has to take care of Strange?





	Fair Trade

          Doctor Stephen Strange amazed and frustrated you to no end. He was absolutely brilliant as a doctor and as a master of the mystic arts. But, whenever it came to combining the two, he was utterly dismissive.  

          “I have an MD and PHD,” he had told you.  “I think I know how to heal people.” 

          He understood that when it came to healing, the mystic arts focused on self-healing.  Meditation and other practices could speed up the process, but ultimately, western medicine could do just as well.  You, of course, disagreed.  When you first came to Kamar-taj, you had quickly discovered your talent for healing spells and made it your focus of study.  It was therefore, not uncommon to see the two of you in a heated debate either wandering through the courtyard of Kamar-taj or in the library of the New York Sanctum.  

          You were both stubborn in your ways, but still held a great deal of respect for the other.  Strange did like to point out the fact you didn’t have an MD license outside the sanctum, but you always retorted he was no longer a practicing surgeon. There was an odd balance to the whole thing, ending in playful eye rolls and a look that lasted a second too long.  It made you wonder if he prompted those debates on purpose, like a little boy tugging on a girl’s pigtails to get their attention.

          You shook the thought away. No, Strange just liked proving he was right.  You were simply reading into body language that probably wasn’t even there. Still, the thought wouldn’t leave you, no matter how hard to tried to focus on the tome in front of you.  Eventually, you just gave up, picked up and the book and placed it back on the self. Damn Strange for managing to get inside your head. 

          You debated going to your room to meditate, when a circle of orange sparks caught your attention.  Out of the newly formed portal came Wong, his clothes torn and his face bruised, being followed by the Cloak of Levitation carrying an unconscious Stephen Strange.

          Your mind sharpened into focus, jumping straight into action.

          “Place him down on the table,” you instructed, quickly.

          The cloak obeyed, laying his master down, while you and Wong cleared away the mess.

          “What happened?”

          “I’m not sure,” Wong said.  “Some creature came out of no where.  Strange took the brunt of the attack.  I couldn’t see what it was.”

          Looking down at Strange, that was exactly what it looked like.  His face was bruised and littered in cuts.  The sleeves of his of his tunic were torn, revealing long scratch marked. And his torso looked like it had gone through a lawn mower.  

          You pushed down the bile rising in your throat and got to work.  Rolling up your sleeves, you began muttering incantations.

          “Herbal remedies are in my office,” you told Wong.

          He was off like a shot, leaving just you, Strange and the cloak.

          His breathing was only becoming more labored, even as the wounds on his arms and face began to heal.  It was taking everything in you just to close a simple cut. You were certain the creature that attacked had something to do with it.  Either by mystical enhancement, or simply evolution, the creature exuded a kind of poison making it virtually impossible to close the wounds. You could feel the energy draining from you.

          Wong appeared a moment later, carrying an armful of vials and herbs.  You thanked him, mixing and crushing ingredients with new found speed.  You weren’t completely sure what kind of poison it was, but you could make a fair guess.  You spread the mixture over Strange’s wounds and began muttering more incantations. The wounds were healing faster, but he had already lost too much blood.  You could feel his life draining away.  

         “Y/N,” he mumbled. He blinked his eyes open. They were dull and out of focus, so different from how you were used to seeing him.

          Your heart clenched at the sight.  “Don’t move,” you soothed.  “I’m going to fix it.”

           Taking a deep breath, you waved your hands over his body, creating a blanket of golden light.  It molded itself to him before sinking into his clothes and skin.  A sharp pain clawed at your abdomen causing you to groan in pain, but you didn’t stop.  You kept your eyes on Strange watching the gaping hole in his torso heal itself.  The cuts on his cheeks and arms faded as well.  His breathing stabilized.  His eyes cleared, going wide as he stared up at you.

           “Y/N!”

           It was only then you felt the blood trickle down your forehead and into your eyes.  You blinked it away and stepped back from the table.  A sudden dizziness took over you.  You looked down to see a large stain of blood spreading across your torso.  Wong caught you before you fell to the floor.  

           “You’re alright,” he assured.  “You did well.”

           You gave him a faint smile, before closing your eyes and allowing the darkness to take you.

* * *

           When you woke up, you found yourself in the comfort of your room.  A smile came to your face at the familiar wooden ceilings, and the shafts of light coming from the nearby window.  You stared to run your hand down your face, but immediately stopped the moment you touched your skin.  A throbbing soreness spread across your face, and you became aware of the stickiness of bandages on your forehead and cheeks. Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself upright. Your body was stiff, but you managed to sit up in bed with only a small groan of pain.

           It was then, your door opened. Stephen Strange stood before you, looking more disheveled then you had ever seen him.  His hair was a mess, appearing like he had run his hand through it a good fifty or so times.  His beard was not as well kept, and his cloths were rumbled.  The only proof he had changed out of them at all, was they weren’t covered in blood.  

           “You’re awake,” he said, sounding uncharacteristically relieved.

           You tried not to let it get to you, even as you felt your cheeks warm.

           “How long was I out?” you asked.  

           “Forty-eight hours.”

           You nodded in understanding.  You thought as much. Honestly, you were surprised it wasn’t longer, considering how much energy you expelled.  

           You then turned your attention back to Strange. He was healing nicely.  His face was completely clear of scars.  There were no bandages bulging beneath his sleeves. However, he was standing more stiffly than usual.

           “Are you alright?” you asked.

           There was a beat of silence as he stared at you in disbelief.  He then let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”  

           His exasperation faded the longer he looked at you. His eyes trailed down your face, focusing intently on every cut a bruise. You felt the need to say something, but couldn’t under the magnitude of his gaze.  

           “What did you do,” he finally asked.  

           “Equivalent exchange.” You felt like you could breathe again.  “Only to be used in emergencies.  It allows the caster to take the wound from another.  Not all at once, mind you, just enough to help the patient stabilize.”

           He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head at your explanation. “It was a stupid thing to do.”

           Your eyes narrowed.  You didn’t have the time or the patience to have this argument now.  

           “You were dying,” you snapped. “Believe me, if we had another method of saving you, I would have used it.”

           “You still shouldn’t risk your life like that,” he countered.

           “I’m a doctor.  It’s my job is to heal people.  You’re telling me you wouldn’t risk your life for a patient?”

           There was a pause, and you immediately felt guilty. You knew Strange felt shame at his past actions while he was a surgeon.  Back then, he wouldn’t even risk his reputation.  But, things had changed.  You knew they had.  He had risked his life multiple times to save everyone.

           He seemed to understand you meant no real harm, but the guilt was still there. After what felt like an eternity, he met your gaze and his eyes softened.

           “Depends on the patient.”

           It was one of those instances where you couldn’t tell if he was joking or being completely serious.  The little half smile didn’t help, as it only made your heart beat faster and your mind go a little fuzzy.

           “Can I try something?” he asked.

           You were surprised by the question, but found yourself nodding anyway.  He took a place on the bed, sitting closer than society might deem appropriate.

           “Close your eyes.”

           You did.  There was a pause, and then, you felt the tips of his fingers brush across your forehead.  You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, but you knew something else was warming your face.  It spread from your forehead, trickling down your face and across your nose.  It felt like having your face submerged in warm water.  Slowly, it started to fade. The soreness was completely gone. You opened your eyes to see Strange staring back at you with a proud smile.  You pulled off one of the band-aids to find your wounds had completely healed.

           “I thought you said you weren’t interested in learning our ways of healing,” you teased.

           His expression turned rather awkward as he ran a hand through his hair. “I might have read a few books while you were out.”

           “A few?”

           “Most of your collection,” he admitted. “I could still use a teacher.  If you’ll help me.”

           You stared at him in wonder. He truly was something else.

           “Gladly.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! If you like this, check out my tumblr @ https://shenanigans-and-imagines.tumblr.com
> 
> Please leave a comment and kudos if you are so inclined.


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